A small child garbed in the rugged attire of the Sand People stared contemplatively at several romping bantha cubs. Sand billowed up all around them and shimmered in the twin suns, adding to the almost magical nature of the cubs' play. This small child was the most introverted of all of the Ghorfa children, or uli-ah, and such brooding was not unusual.

Female banthas gave birth to cubs about every two years, and it was a tradition of the Sand People for the young Tusken Raider children to tend to bantha cubs. Once the cubs had grown into adult banthas, they would be "received" by Tuskens who had just come of age. Not all of those adult banthas would form bonds with Tusken Raiders their first opportunity, however, and those "bondless" banthas were eventually released to fend for themselves in the desert if a bond was not formed after a few years. Some would join wild herds of roaming banthas; others would die. It was both the way of the Ghorfa and of the cruel desert planet.

The older Sand People were watching this first encounter from a distance, standing beside their bantha mounts. Several uli-ah had already begun to play with the cubs, and the interaction was of interest to the adult Tuskens.

Finally, after glancing up at the twin suns, which were like giant eyes in the sky keeping watch, the introverted child stepped forward into the midst of the bantha cubs, sitting down decisively. Some of the cubs came forward, nudging him demandingly and eagerly with soft brown noses. He gently touched a few of them, exuding a strangely calming aura. Still, he gazed over the heads of the bantha cubs near him, searching for something...

He shot to his feet when he saw the smallest of all the bantha cubs tramping decisively towards him and leaving scuff marks in its wake. It pushed its velvety nose into his chest, snuffling loudly as it investigated his scents. The child scratched a tender spot on the bantha's head, and then he flattened himself on the ground, which surprised those who were watching him. The cub jumped on top of the introverted uli-ah, and the two were soon rolling around in the sand, although both remained silent in their play. Not even a hint of laughter came from the child, and the furred beast also strangely refrained from releasing even a grunt.

****

A female Tusken Raider watched the scene unfold with something akin to disappointment. The child had always possessed a penchant for weaklings. Whenever a raiding party went out to steal precious food and water from a homestead, the child's bandaged head would always fixate on hers, almost pleadingly. For some reason, he was unable to accept that the Ghorfa had to take advantage of other species' helplessness in order to ensure the continued survival of their own species...

He was smaller than the other Tusken children, the female Tusken conceded, so perhaps a small mount was best for him to eventually ride on in the rocky Jundland Wastes. It would be years before he received his bantha mount, but she could tell already that this particular bantha was the one he was going to form his bond with.

Perhaps even more alarming than the young one's affinity for weaklings was his eternal silence. While learning the basics of fighting with gaffi sticks, not even a grunt ever came from beneath his mask. While the other children talked quietly about the size of the womp rats they would one day kill, he would stare longingly into the sunset. And now, while the rare sound of laughter came from the mouths of Ghorfa children playing with bantha cubs, he still stayed silent.

The other Sand People had not voiced their concerns to her, but she knew they did not think the child would last long. Many were even secretly glad that he would probably never even have the chance to become the storyteller, which was a coveted position by many adults for themselves and their children, as the storyteller was one of the most respected members of the Tusken community.

The Ghorfa had no written language; instead, they relied on complex chants to keep track of their lineage, their legends, and their ancestor's memories of the space battles that had laid waste to much of Tatooine. These chants were handed down from generation to generation, the storyteller eventually taking on an apprentice, who was never allowed to recite the stories out loud, for to speak a single word of the sacred stories incorrectly was considered grounds for instant death. When the apprentice decided he was ready to become the master, he would recite the stories, and the old storyteller would wander off into the desert to die. While the storyteller was greatly honored in life, from Arr't'ni's perspective there was little honor in such a fate as dying alone in the merciless desert rather than in the heat of battle. Such was why Arr't'ni, in a way, was glad that the child would never be able to become the storyteller. She wished such a lonely fate on no Tusken.

Of course, unless he proved his strength by some incredible feat, the child would never be the leader of their Tusken clan or tribe either, though the situation could change...

Arr't'ni stared at the uli-ah, who was now sitting calmly beside the bantha cub he had befriended and stroking the creature's long dark hair. He paused every now and then to gently scratch the area on the animal's head where spiral horns would one day grow in, a sensitive spot for all bantha cubs. She sighed, leaning down to gently tap the head of the massif guard animal standing beside her. The child's destiny seemed to be devoid of any chance at greatness. Perhaps she should have never taken the young human from the moisture farmers' homestead that day years ago—but she had, and she did not truly regret it.

Yes, she confirmed to herself once again while gazing at her son, taking care of a bantha might be beneficial for Chinnatah's development.

****

Bail Organa stared upward at a painting of a woman with dark hair and kind brown eyes. Beneath the picture was a plaque that read simply: Queen Breha Antilles Organa.

How Bail missed his wife.

She had been his pillar of strength, the love of his life...And he had been the same for her.

They had tried several times to have children, but the result had always been a miscarriage, and they had been unable to have the little girl they had always wanted. When Padmé had died and Leia Skywalker had been offered forth, it had been a dream come true, though it was of course bittersweet, as the entry of this new life into their lives had involved the exit of a fellow senator.

Months after Bail and Breha had adopted Leia, Bail's senatorial aide Sheltay Retrac had died with his wife in an accident, and Bail and Breha had adopted the two-year old Winter Retrac, a strange but sweet child with white hair, green eyes, and a perfect memory. Young Winter still missed her parents dearly, and Bail and Breha had decided to let her keep her last name; after all, Winter did not need protection like Leia did.

But now, dear Breha was gone, the victim of a swift, fatal disease that Bail had never seen coming...

Feeling as if he were surrounded by death, Bail Organa sadly turned his eyes to another painting nearby. A man with brown hair and blue eyes stared out at him: his father-in-law, Bail Antilles.

After Bail Antilles had failed to receive the chancellorship, he had given up his long-held position of senator, allowing Bail Organa to become senator in his place. Bail Organa had been glad to finally be a part of the Republic leadership, but as Palpatine began seizing power, his father-in-law had soured the position for him. Bail Antilles had criticized Palpatine's regime profusely and encouraged his son-in-law to remove Alderaan from the Republic, but Bail Organa had refused. Simply withdrawing Alderaan from the Republic would not help matters, Bail Organa had believed, and when the Republic had been converted to an Empire with the approval of countless citizens and many senators, Bail Organa had felt sickened. Bail Antilles had become bedridden, and when his daughter Breha had died, the strain had proved more than he could handle, and he had followed her descent into death.

As if all that didn't make Bail sick enough at heart, he also had to deal with the fact that he had actually agreed with Chancellor Palpatine's views on bureaucratic stagnation and voted for Palpatine to be allowed emergency powers. At the time, his reasons for doing so had seemed sound—the Separatists had refused to negotiate, and quick action was needed. He had known the Senate wouldn't have approved of using the Clone Army, so the logical option seemed to be to give more power to Palpatine...

But upon realizing the problem of Palpatine's growing power, Bail had immediately cultivated relationships with other like-minded senators, such as Padmé Skywalker of Naboo (how he wished she hadn't met such a wretched death!), Mon Mothma of Chandrila (a kind but assertive woman who had been inspired by Bail Antilles's last words against Palpatine), and Garm Bel Iblis of Corellia (a charismatic man who had never tried to hide his disdain for Palpatine's regime).

But whereas Palpatine seemed to find an ally in Bail, he appeared to be rather wary of Bel Iblis and Mothma, which Bail thought was unfortunate, if inevitable.

Bel Iblis had been rather outspoken in opposing Palpatine's expanding powers, and he had advocated the middle ground: keeping a central government that was strong enough to be useful while still ensuring the rights of member worlds of the Republic were maintained. Mothma had also spoken out against Palpatine, seeming to fear a dictatorship. For months after the Empire was instated, she had encouraged Bail to speak out as well; however, the subjugation of Kashyyyk silenced her encouragement, though she had continued speaking out. Bail had preferred to try to stay close to Palpatine in an attempt to balance his power and protect the lives of his family. Mothma and Bel Iblis seemed to have no restraints in that regard.

Bail Organa gave a heavy sigh before reluctantly trying to clear his mind. Such heavy thoughts were for Coruscant; on Alderaan, he should simply be satisfied with his success in his planetary ban of weapons and with the presence of his two adopted daughters. While Winter was presently studying with a tutor, as she often was, Leia was being watched by Obi-Wan. She would be delighted that her father had arrived home early.

He walked through the hall, eventually opening a door and standing quietly in the door frame.

He smiled as he watched Obi-Wan Kenobi color in a picture of a Jedi Knight on an electronic coloring book alongside a fascinated Leia. She was such a precious little girl with her chubby cheeks and pigtails; unlike the strangely regal Winter, little Leia seemed to encourage attention. Everyone was always doting on her, whether it was Obi-Wan, one of Bail's three gossipy sisters (Tia, Rouge, and Celly, bless their souls), her old nanny, or Bail himself. Bail was very glad that he was fortunate enough to raise Leia as a princess in the Royal House of Alderaan. The Royal House, located in the capital city of Aldera, provided a very peaceful and serene environment that was ideal for raising children.

Yes, Bail would give the little girl the best he could give, cherishing his memories of her deceased biological mother and adopted mother privately. They would want him and Leia to be happy.

Three-year old Leia, oblivious to the inner musings of her foster father, shook her head as she stared at the picture Obi-Wan was coloring. "Not green! Blue!"

Obi-Wan shook his head, grinning gently. "Why must I always color the lightsaber blue?"

"Because that's the color of your lightsaber, Obi-Wan," Bail said matter-of-factly from the doorway. "I should think you would have realized that by now."

"Bail!" Obi-Wan stood, smiling and swinging a giggling Leia up as he moved towards the man he was speaking to. He held the little girl out for her foster father.

"How was babysitting duty?" the elegantly robed man inquired, swinging around the excited princess. "I hope she wasn't too much trouble!" He put on a mock-stern look.

"Daddy!" the girl exclaimed, sticking out her tongue and wriggling in his arms.

"Well, there was a moment there when I thought I might have to hang her out the window by her toes—" Obi-Wan smiled teasingly. He would no more do that to Leia than himself.

"Obi!" Leia turned towards him, frowning. She had her hands placed on her hips, looking perturbed as only little girls could. Bail, however, suspected she was imitating one of her aunts.

"Just kidding, young one," the Jedi said gently.

"Well, your father's off for the rest of the day, Leia," Bail smiled. "So how would you like to go to the zoo?"

"Zoo!" the small child squirmed eagerly. Her eyes had widened and seemed to be dancing around in their sockets. There were few places she enjoyed as much as the zoo. Then her eyes abruptly puckered up. "No aunties?"

"No," Bail reassured her. "And though I'm sure Winter would love to come, she's busy all day with her tutors." He turned to the brown-robed Jedi. "Would you like to come along in Winter's place?"

Kenobi hesitated, "Well, I—"

"Come, now, Obi-Wan. Surely a trip to the zoo will lift even your somber mood." Bail raised an inquisitive eyebrow, the hint of a plea shining in his eyes.

Though Bail did not mention it, Obi-Wan knew that the older man's intentions were not just to "lift" Obi-Wan's "somber mood." A few days ago, yet another assassination attempt (there seemed to be nearly as many of them as the kidnapping attempts—the latter Obi-Wan understood, for Bail was not exactly a poor man, but the former had him slightly puzzled—what would someone gain from the princess' death?—his best guess was that it was another Royal House trying to eliminate Bail's heir) had been made on Leia's life while Bail Organa had been off-planet discussing forming a Resistance against the Empire. Bail was presently teetering on the edge of frustration and fear, as he always seemed to be for weeks after such attempts. He could handle his own life being in danger, but when that of his pride and joy was threatened, he seemed to fall apart. If Obi-Wan Kenobi accompanied him to the zoo, it would be as much for Bail's sake as for Leia's.

Knowing that, the Jedi Master sighed. There was no such thing as a break for a Jedi. "Well, all right."

****

There were several zoos on Alderaan, many of which Bail and Obi-Wan had already taken young Leia to, but the girl squealed when she saw which particular zoo the trio was to visit: Aldera's largest petting zoo.

She nearly ran inside without her two guardians, but Bail caught her by the hand, admonishing her gently. "Not yet."

The pittins were the first creatures in eyesight, and when the trio of humans finally entered the zoo, Leia rushed over to the creatures, petting their different-colored fur with chubby fingers.

Their soft noses brushed up against her cheek, but she paused mid-giggle when she saw the new animals that had been brought in days before.

She came to her feet, pittins forgotten, walking slowly over to a different area of the room and receiving puzzled looks from both Bail and Obi-Wan. Usually, Leia stayed with the pittins for quite some time, and they practically had to drag her to the next set of animals.

The little girl could not read the Aurebesh sign in front of these new creatures, but it said:

Species: Bantha
Homeplanet: Tatooine
Information: Banthas are hardy creatures that can survive for weeks without food and water, a survival technique that is very important since the hairy quadrupeds often live on desert planets. They grow two spiral horns that can reach incredible lengths, and when they are fully grown, their coarse fur provides them protection from both the desert sun and any adversaries. Banthas are often known as having been domesticated by fearsome desert savages known as Tusken Raiders, natives of Tatooine who use the creatures as both partners and beasts of burden.

Leia slid to her knees in front of the bantha cubs, lightly touching their still-soft fur. Then her soft brown eyes met with a pair of kind crystalline ones, and a strange feeling shot through her body. She brought her head up with a jolt.

****

Chinnatah jerked his head upwards from where he had been looking into his bantha friend's eyes. The cub gazed inquisitively at him but made no noise. Chinnatah patted the creature's head and then stood up and began walking aimlessly.

His name was Tusken for "sun," or "light-bringer," and he had always felt a sort of kinship with Tatooine's two suns, even disregarding his namesake. He was always looking to the horizon, as if somehow the suns would one day answer all of his questions.

But they never had.

He always felt like an outsider, dwarfed by the simple cloak and unisex cowl that sheltered his body from the sweltering Tatooine suns. Something other than the harsh Ghorfa lifestyle seemed to call to him, but he didn't know what or why. He was just a young Tusken child, lost in the fury of an emotional storm that raged at him every time he saw an unprovoked Tusken raiding party go after a helpless homestead. Perhaps those in the homestead were not utterly helpless, and many had even managed to strike back at some of the Sand People, but it seemed that the end was always the same for the Tatooinian colonists: death and defeat. Even the Jawas, also native to Tatooine, were not spared from Ghorfa attacks. The Sand People showed allegiance only to each other, never to any other creatures, something that Chinnatah, with his entire being, felt was wrong.

He clinched a rag-covered fist. His mother, Arr't'ni, did not seem to understand his eternal silence.

And he did not seem to understand her. But now, at last, he had someone whose silence would provide as much comfort as Arr't'ni could if she would just accept Chinnatah's weaknesses. To himself—for he understood well the guttural Ghorfa language even if he never ventured to speak it—Chinnatah, shunting the custom which forbade Tuskens to name banthas, gave the bantha cub the name "Vrentlla," which was Tusken for "acceptance."

Vrentlla gently bumped a fur-covered head against Chinnatah's knee, holding true to her namesake.